Awaiting Checkmate
by Ozymandias9
Summary: Severus Snape sat alone in an upper room of Malfoy Manner. The chessboard before him was devoid of the commotion and rubble of that usually served as the trademark of a wizard's chess set.


Prelude: Awaiting Checkmate

"_It's your turn to move Ross."  
I overheard my father's long forgotten words amidst the bustling traffic of Manila. Same usual reminder when we were playing chess before his death. Can he still sense my indecisiveness, my predicament on my life now?_  
Life in a Chessboard

Severus Snape sat alone in an upper room of Malfoy Manner. The chessboard before him was devoid of the commotion and rubble of that usually served as the trademark of a wizard's chess set. Only a fool or a muggle, however, would fail to notice the signs of magic in the pieces: the swirling glow of the pieces, both black and white, was the only light source in the room.

By the time that he was in his third year at Hogwarts, Severus had discovered that if he sat alone in front of a chessboard, no one seemed to bother him. It was perhaps the one truth that had remained from his school days. He exploited this strange boon whenever he needed time for uninterrupted thought. Even the Dark Lord seemed to respect the time that Severus spent playing against his imaginary foe: though, to be fair, Severus went to great lengths to give the Dark Lord no reason to interrupt him unexpectedly.

As he picked up a white bishop the light remained behind on the square, leaving the crystal piece in his hand clear and empty. He closed his fist around it tightly as he considered his move.

Only Dumbledore had routinely interfered with his games. The headmaster had seemingly taken great joy in removing and rearranging the pieces on Severus' chessboard when he found it unattended. On more than on occasion, he joined a game well in progress without invitation. Snape knew that Dumbledore's interference had made him a better player, just as it was intended to. But it was frustrating still.

And not just because Dumbledore always won.

He hoped in earnest that this game would be no different. If Dumbledore had been the king, it would already be over. But, though it irked him still, Severus had come to the conclusion long ago that that position belonged to Potter. As he thought about it, though, it fit in a cruelly twisted way. The king was always treated as far more important than his movement or offensive capability justified, much the same way that both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord seemed to insist on treating Potter. The difference, of course, was that it was talented witches and wizards rather than pieces that were being sacrificed to save this impotent king.

Talented as those witches and wizards may be, Severus wondered how long they could hold out without Dumbledore's strategy there to guide them. As far as he knew, only Potter and he had been privy to any salient portion of that strategy. Potter probably would have struggled with a complete strategy, much less with whatever half measure Dumbledore could provided him given his pitiable occulmancy skills. And Severus himself was certainly in no position to guide the other pieces: even if they wouldn't have killed him on sight, Dumbledore had made it clear that he was not to sacrifice his position as spy.

Dumbledore had been quite clear on that point, especially since they both knew that there would be no way for him to reliably pass on the information he gained. Though he didn't understand them in full, Severus knew that his tasks were to be both limited and pivotal: save Potter if no other option presents, deliver the sword (though he didn't know why), and aid in the checkmate (in the extremely unlikely event that Potter can produce it).

As he surveyed the board, Severus's eyes stopped on the piece he had put forward three moves ago, while playing black, to draw out the white knight.

It was a black pawn. Draco Malfoy.

Even as he had known that it was the rational move for the black player, Severus knew that it would result in an irrational outcome. Dumbledore was moving his pieces, even from the grave. And though Severus knew that white would have to make checkmate without its queen, he also knew that there was no reason for the black player to believe that sacrifice to be planned.

So against all odds, the black pawn had survived. Till tonight at least. For the past month the Death Eaters had been decentralized; they had scattered after the battle at Hogwarts, allowing the Ministry and the Order to waste what precious resources they could muster as their world came crashing down.

Now, however, the Death Eaters were raising a second offensive. Last night they had raided Azkaban. And though they had avoided it for a month, tonight the Malfoys would have to face the Dark Lord.

While it was true Draco hadn't failed, he hadn't succeeded either. Ordinarily, that situation might have been passable to the Dark Lord. The situation, however, was not ordinary: Draco was set up to fail. The Dark Lord was looking for a reason to make an example out of the Malfoys. Severus wasn't entirely sure why (the events at the Department of Mysteries seemed, on their own, insufficient), but the intent to punish was still clear.

It seemed exceedingly likely that one of the Malfoys would die tonight, either by the Dark Lord's hand or (more grimly) at the hands of another family member. And, of the Malfoys, Draco was the least valuable to the Dark Lord.

Though he cursed himself for being so sentimental, Severus felt saddened by the coming death of the boy whose innocence Dumbledore had fought so hard to save. As he went through the possibilities again in his mind, hoping weakly that he had missed some course of action by which Draco might be spared, a twinge of his Dark Mark alerted him that the Dark Lord had arrived at the Manor.

The pawn, it seemed, would have to fend for himself.

He placed the bishop in a safe position two rows back and the white light darted over from it's previous square. As he stood up to leave to room the lights on the board flickered out. The crystal pieces sat in the darkness, indistinguishable from one another, waiting for someone to return and tell them once again the difference between black and white.


End file.
